


Distraction at your door

by KayCeeCruz



Series: It's Only Time [6]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCeeCruz/pseuds/KayCeeCruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days are more difficult then others.</p><p><i>He would never discover why it started. And he would never be able to pinpoint exactly when it began. All Brian knew was that on certain days...the ones where he could barely take a step out of his loft...on days he wanted nothing more than to allow the numbing darkness that emanated from every corner to consume him, even if just for a short while...they would be there.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction at your door

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to for beta'ing as usual. This one is over 7000 words so she deserves a cookie. This story is about the family keeping their promise to Justin. It took me quite a while to write this one. Feedback appreciated. <3

He would never discover why it started. And he would never be able to pinpoint exactly when it began. All Brian knew was that on certain days...the ones where he could barely take a step out of his loft...on days he wanted nothing more than to allow the numbing darkness that emanated from every corner to consume him, even if just for a short while...they would be there.

Bringing papers to sign, supplying tuna macaroni casserole (the one he loved when he was a kid), asking for advice or offering the same. Teasing with fatty snacks and endless hours of cinematic experience.

They would appear, by his side, bearing shards of color in the absence of sunlight.

 

  
**  
_“I need you to take care of Brian.”_   
**   


 

“Oh fuck,” Hunter mumbled, his hands stuffed inside his coat pockets, eyes glaring at the huge metal door that stood like a goddamn symbolic obstacle. Cold, metal door...hard and impenetrable. Like the man who he knew resided on the other side.

What the fuck was he thinking when he agreed to do this?

Hunter snorted. He _hadn’t_ been thinking. He’d allowed his romantic - good lord -- sensibilities to get the better of him and let his fathers talk him into it. He rubbed one eye with a gloved hand and inhaled deeply. He said he’d fucking do this and he would. It was a couple of hours. It wouldn’t kill him but Brian might.

The thought gave him momentary pause because for all his bravado with Brian, the guy intimidated the hell out of him. His mind flew to his parents, to their faces of pride as he’d been the first to volunteer when no one else had wanted to touch the day.

He wasn’t about to return home to see the same faces showing disappointment.

And there was Justin. He hadn’t gotten to know him well, but what he knew was that he and Brian had loved each other very much.

Even the littlest hustler could see that clearly.

He’d made a promise. He wasn’t about to break it.

He could make out the soft tendrils of music seeping out from the small crack between the floor and where the door began. He stared at the shaft of thin light . Brian was still home. Hunter shook his head. There was no way to know whether he would be going out later but -- well fuck -- if he knew one thing about Brian, it was that you could never assume anything.

“Here goes nothing.” He rapped his fist against the hollow metal three times. There was a long moment and he wondered if the music had drowned out his pounding. He adjusted the strap of his book bag and raised his hand again when the heavy door slid open and he stared into a pair of hazel - or were they green today?- eyes. Hollowed and pained. His breath stuck inside for the second it took to register the vulnerability in Brian’s weary face. In the following moment it was gone, replaced by icy indifference.

Shit. He had remembered. Not that Hunter had thought for a second that Brian would have forgotten today…just wishful thinking.

“Well, if it isn’t the Little Hustler That Could.” Brian stared hard, one eyebrow raised in question. “To what do I owe the dubious honor? Or is there a new door to door service these days?”

Ouch. He was in a state tonight. Not surprised in the least, Hunter swallowed the bitter shame that surfaced at Brian’s taunting and smirked. “Only for the truly special, Brian.” He stepped past the older man confidently, taking note of the growing pile of cigarette butts that littered the ashtrays. He recognized the mix of the sickly sweet smoke and what he assumed was some form of liquor. His eyes quickly fell to the nearly empty bottle of Beam on the table and a moment later to the small jewelry box that lay open next to it. The light glinted off the gold circles tucked inside and his earlier anxiety returned.

“What the fuck do you want?”

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. _Oh, you know just making sure you aren’t going to kill yourself on what should have been your one year wedding anniversary with the only guy everyone says you ever loved?_

Yeah. That wouldn’t go over well.

So fuck the pity, it would only get his ass kicked out faster. The strategy to handling Brian, as Emmett had so kindly told him, was to meet fire with fire. Not to take his baiting, no matter what. With that in mind, Hunter turned and sent a twisted smile at Brian.

“Actually just thought I’d drop by to check up on you. You know what they say about the elderly. They shouldn’t be alone all the time. In case they fall and can’t get back up or some shit like that.”

Hunter could see the edges of a smile forming on Brian’s lips and he silently thanked Emmett for the advice. He was so going to supply that queen with a new set of Lana Turner DVDs.

“Is that so? We’re a little boy scout these days. Oh wait, no. You’re a jock now, right. Basketball? Football?” Brian walked around him, and Hunter sensed when he noticed the box still laid out on the table. He heard the soft scrape of fabric when Brian picked it up and ignored the snap of the lid. He watched the older man casually drop it into an open drawer before closing it softly. Hunter met his eyes, catching that quick jolt of pain he hid damn well and smiled at Brian’s next words. “Who the fuck cares. I mean, you’d know better than most that balls are balls, right?”

Hunter replied happily. “That’s the fucking truth. Speaking of balls, how are yours hanging?” He paused and grinned. “Or should I say how is yours hanging?”

Brian registered what for him was probably shock and then suddenly he burst out laughing, flinging an apple he’d retrieved at Hunter. “Fuck off, you little shit.”

Hunter caught the apple deftly, biting into it quickly. Well…this was definitely going better then he expected.

Next step: distraction.

“Seriously, I came here to ask for a favor.”

Brian paused, looking at him strangely, as he checked his pockets for his lighter. He pulled at the cigarette held between his lips and asked. “You want a favor from me?”

“Yeah.” Hunter placed his book bag on the table, opened it and pulled out page after page of papers. He could see Brian watching him and he swallowed thickly. He really did need help even if at that moment it was the excuse he needed more. He glanced up finally and sighed. “I have to fill out these fucking papers.”

“What are they?”

“Next of kin forms, power of attorney… not that I have anything to power over but Mel still said I should… my will, medical forms…” He rubbed his forehead roughly. Justin had once told him that Brian was one of the most selfless people he knew. That when someone needed his help…he would give it. “Forms for DNR requests and…forms for a living will.” He glanced at Brian and watched as the emotions the older man never showed played quickly across his face.

“You want me to -- no fucking way, Hunter.” Brian shook his head, stubbing out the barely smoked cigarette in a new ashtray. “I did that once. No.”

Hunter smiled. “I just need help filling out the forms.” He knew it was a fucked up thing to use as a distraction but nothing else had sprung to mind, and, as he looked around, he also knew Justin had been right. Brian needed them to help. Even if he didn’t realize it. Or would ever admit it.

“Why can’t Michael or the Professor do it?”

Hunter eyed him. “Are you fucking kidding? You bring up any of this to Michael and he starts the waterworks. And Ben…he has his own shit to get straight.”

Brian placed one hand on his hip, the other reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do they know you’re here?”

“Yeah. Course.” Granted, they had no clue what Hunter was asking Brian to do, but that hadn’t been the question.

Brian closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening them again. The empty, dull look that had been there before seemed to have lessened, and Hunter grinned when Brian started to walk toward the table.

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

Damn. Justin was good.

Hunter handed him the first stack of papers and mentally patted himself on the back. Mission accomplished.

 

  
_  
**“This isn’t easy to ask but he’s going to need…you.”**   
_   


 

“Emmett, what the fuck is all this?” Brian placed one hand on the towering mound in Emmett’s arms, steadying him as he pushed his way into the loft.

“What does it look like?” Emmett chewed his lower lip in concentration, carefully taking one small step after another until he had reached the safety of the white dining table, and, with his usual flair for the dramatic, dropping it all with a final flourish. “Ta-da! I not only give perfectly posh parties, I can also deliver incredible mounds of mishap to your front door.” He sent Brian a dazzling smile before stifling a shriek when the buzzer rang and running to the intercom. “Sorry, sorry. Come up.”

Brian stood, barefoot and shirtless in the middle of the hall, face contorted in annoyance and confusion. Emmett ignored him for the moment, meeting Darren halfway down the stairs. “I got it, honey. Go on. Get to your appointment.”

“Shanda appreciates it.” He blew a kiss before clicking loudly down the stairs and out the door. Emmett took a deep breath, preparing for what he knew would be an ultimate Brian meltdown.

And everyone called him the queen. Brian could out queen him any day of the week.

He plastered on a smile, rushing through the entrance and placing the cake in his hands on the counter. “Okay, before you say anything, I have a great explanation for all this.”

“One too many tabs of E? Death wish? Your too tight leather pants cut off the circulation to your brain?” Brian bit out the words as he pulled the sliding door closed.

Emmett sighed quietly. He knew he should have picked some other day. But the suggestion had been Debbie’s, and he knew saying no to her was like asking for his balls to be handed to him on a silver platter. He was fond of his genitals as they were, so here he was. On what he knew had to be one of the more difficult days for Brian.

He inspected his friend from his vantage point, noting the dark circles under Brian’s eyes, the slump in his shoulders. That aura of bleakness that covered him still on occasion. Not as often as before, thank god. But still…

It occurred to him that he’d rarely been alone with a half naked Brian. He really was fucking gorgeous. Emmett cleared his throat, and when Brian brought his gaze to him, he stared pointedly at his bare chest.

The other man grinned widely and quirked an eyebrow. “Making you uncomfortable in my own house, Emmy Lou? Can‘t contain yourself?”

“Brian, please. I’m flattered that you want me so much you feel you need to resort to strutting around like a peacock, emphasis on the cock, but sweetie, really, you’re not my type.”

There was a pause and suddenly they both laughed.

And that was why they had never remotely come close to fucking. The thought alone seemed so ludicrous that neither one would even consider it.

Two opposites did not a good fuck make. Well, at least not in this case.

“Go put on a shirt. You’ll need it.”

Emmett threw Brian another amused glance as he walked past him to the bedroom and began setting up the room. By the time the other man had returned, he had laid the cake out in the middle of the table, brought over Brian’s laptop, and was rifling through a thick stack of papers.

Brian stood staring at the mess and asked in a tight voice, only reserved for occasions when he was truly perturbed, the same question he’d had when Emmett had strolled into his house with no invitation. “What the fuck _is_ all this?”

Emmett jumped slightly before setting the stack in his hand down on the table and pulling out Brian’s chair. “It’s a surprise.”

Brian sighed, one hand rubbing at the sudden ache that was forming in the back of his neck. “Emmett, I hate surprises. You know that. I’m not in the mood for this. So just get your shit and-” He was cut off by the sound of the computer dinging in a call. The only one who ever did that was…

Emmett clicked on a few keys and Gus’ face popped up on the screen, and seeing Emmett he broke into a grin. “Hi Auntie Em!”

“Hello, baby! Happy Birthday!” Emmett cheered, glancing back at Brian, whose face had relaxed at his son’s unexpected appearance. There was a light in his eyes that had been absent before, and Emmett watched as Brian straightened the shirt he wore. He hid a smile at the nervous fidgeting and moved out of the way when Brian plopped down on the chair.

“Daddy!” Gus clapped two chubby hands together, his face beaming even brighter, if that was possible, when he saw his father.

“Hi, Sonnyboy.” Brian leaned onto the table, smile spreading across his face, and Emmett let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. This was going better than he’d imagined. He was still convinced that someone else could have handled this occasion better, but everyone had assured him that Brian would go easiest on him.

“You know he considers you the baby of the family, next to his son and Justin, Emmett,” Michael had soothed.

Teddy had jumped in, reminding Emmett that Brian had always had a soft spot for him and it would be cruel to send someone else to their death.

Hunter had commented that he had survived beautifully and Brian didn’t even like him.

Emmett suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape. He was such a fucking pushover sometimes.

“Are you ready, Daddy?”

Brian’s face registered confusion and he replied carefully. “For what, Sonnyboy?”

Gus’ eyes rolled like only a six-year-old’s could and he sighed dramatically. “For the party, Daddy. Duh.”

Emmett laughed loudly. “Of course we are, Gus. Go get your mothers and JR , we’ll wait.” He waited until Gus had disappeared from the frame and he could clearly hear him call out to his mothers before turning to  
Brian. “Okay, look. I know this isn’t an easy day for you, Brian, and don’t give me any shit about it not bothering you because-- well, it’s shit.”

One eyebrow rose in response but Brian said nothing, simply nodding.

“I just thought it would be nice if you got to see your son on his actual birthday. Not a week or a month or whenever the girls decided they could spare him later, or you decided you could make it up there. So I called them, arranged a time, and brought the party favors.” Emmett withdrew two hats from a bag on the floor, handing Brian the cowboy one and ignoring the stare he received.

“Don’t be an asshole, Brian.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why the fuck do you care how I feel today, Emmett?” Brian glanced at the screen, not seeing anyone yet, and returned his gaze to his friend. “I don’t get it. What made you think it was any different than any other day I don’t see my son?”

“Because today is the day he was born, and no matter what you like the world to believe, I know you love your son.”

“I love my son everyday, Em.” Brian’s quiet intensity wavered in his voice and he continued to glare, searching for more...knowing there was more. “It doesn’t matter what day it is. So why today?”

Emmett half groaned in defeat and met Brian’s eyes. “You know damn well why.” When Brian made no pretense to acknowledge what Emmet was saying, he continued. “I was there, Brian. I remember your face. I remember that moment. And, fuck it all to hell, I know that your life changed in that instant. That nothing was ever the same.”

Brian looked away, emotions playing swiftly across his face and just as quickly disappearing. “It’s nobody’s business, Emmett.” He gritted through his teeth, eyes closing for just a moment, and Emmet knew, just as sure as he knew that his new lime green pants made his ass look magnificent, that Brian was remembering that moment…the figure under that streetlamp.

“Maybe it’s not. But I just-- I don’t know. I thought you could use a friend.”

Brian opened dulled eyes to glare at him and he shook his head. “It’s mine. That moment is mine, Emmett. I don’t want to share it. With anyone.”

Emmett fumbled for the appropriate words to counter and, finding nothing, he shrugged helplessly. “I’m not looking to share. I’m just looking to help.”

Brian stared for a long moment, hearing approaching footsteps through the speakers, and he nodded in assent. “Fine.”

Emmett grinned in relief. “Good. Now it won’t take long. We’ll sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ Gus will blow out the candles there. You’ll blow them out here. We’ll open some presents and then it’ll be over. Deal?”

Brian replied quietly. “On one condition.”

Emmett looked at him.

“I’m not wearing the fucking hat.”

When Lindsay appeared onscreen all she heard was Emmett’s loud laughter drifting out of the speakers…

 

  
**  
_“He’ll never admit it but it’s going to be hard on him.”_   
**   


 

“Did you know that he owned a Cher doll when we were seven?” Daphne snorted, taking a small toke from the joint in her hand before passing it over to Brian, who was currently having a fit of what could only be called giggling. “Seriously.” She slid to the floor, settling onto her back and angling her head so she could glance at him. “Should have been my tip off he was gay, huh?”

Brian snorted now, nodding. “No shit.”

“Well, I just thought he was sensitive.” At Brian’s incredulous look, she laughed, swatting at his arm. “I was seven, for fuck‘s sake!”

Brian grinned, quietly preparing a second roll for them to share. They let the comfortable silence they always seemed to share fall between them and she watched as he went to work on the new joint. Methodically adding and rolling and shaping. She watched his eyes focus, and even through the dull haze she saw the intensity there. It had been that way since she’d met Brian. His eyes said everything and nothing. Justin had once told her that he had fallen in love with Brian’s eyes first. She could understand that.

Which was why she was here. She loved Justin. And, in loving him, she had grown to love Brian. Had sometimes loved Brian over her own best friend. She knew it was ridiculous, but her mind would jump to the months of the -- she still shuddered to think of it -- Ethan debacle, the trip to LA just when she had started to feel that their non-relationship had been making progress, the aborted wedding that had broken everyone’s hearts, and now…

Here they were. With Justin now thousands of miles away, with someone else, afraid or too pained to keep in touch like he had promised he would. The anger that rose was immediate and she pushed it aside. Fuck it. This wasn’t about her. Whatever she and Justin were or weren’t anymore, he had asked a favor from her…from them all. And she would do it.

Not just for him or Brian but for herself. Because unlike the others who’d each chosen a day like they would a name from a hat, she had known the one she would share with Brian. There had been no question about it. The day had cemented her cheerleading status when it concerned Brian. Through everything she had believed he loved Justin. She still did.

And, unlike the others, she hadn’t needed an excuse to corner him in his loft. Hadn’t needed to trick him into letting her stay. She had simply shown up at his door, a bag with ice cream in one hand, a familiar well-worn VHS tape in the other, and her med school application in her briefcase. He’d glared at her for only a minute before she’d kissed his cheek soundly, told him to kiss her ass, and asked where he kept his spoons.

After a change of clothes and a round of Beam, they’d opened the ice cream, digging in while she played the tape. When the beginning strains of “Yellow Submarine” drifted from the television, Brian had frozen, spoon halfway to his mouth. She’d pulled out her last offering, the dime bag she’d purchased from one of her neighbors, handing it to Brian. He’d laughed then and started preparing their shared smoke while the sounds of the Beatles floated around them. She half-expected to see Justin walking out of the bedroom, giving them both his signature roll of the eyes at their state.

They’d continued to share in her generosity long after the music had finished, occasionally switching from the bong to shots and back. They’d started to fill out her application between fits of laughter and she was well aware she would need to submit for a new one in the morning. They’d fallen into their current game of sharing one thing the other didn’t know about Justin.

They had been at it for an hour and that had been her ace in the hole. The Cher thing. She was sure she was out of things.

“Beat that, sucker.”

Brian shook his head, stared at her before taking another long puff and inhaling. “You’re stoned, Daph.”

”Yes, cause you’re so fucking sober, Bri,“ Daphne commented, soft smile on her face and in her voice. “So, what do you got? What can you tell me I don’t know?” She held her hand up. “And no sex stuff, please. I know too much as it is.”

His face seemed to darken suddenly, and Daphne felt something inside warn that whatever he was going to say would be…scary.

“Did you know that I knew I loved him when that fucking bat hit his face?”

She gasped softly, cursing under her breath at the admission. They’d managed to avoid referencing that up until now. It wasn’t unexpected. That was the reason she was here. To commemorate that five years ago fate had seen to it to fuck up their universe. Had taken an act as sweet and romantic as Brian sharing a dance with Justin at the prom and turned it into such a horrific experience that Daphne was sure it had convinced Brian he was not meant to share in those kinds of moments. Her yet to be earned Psych degree notwithstanding, it hadn’t taken a genius to figure that out, even back then.

But that sudden blurting of truth….shit. The look on Brian’s face was raw and she realized he still felt the same guilt now that he had then. “Brian.”

He refused to look at her but continued to speak. “When it happened, at that exact moment, I knew it. I fucking felt it inside so sharp it was a goddamn knife. And when he lay there bleeding…his life slipping out, all I knew was that it was my fault.”

“Brian, that’s not true.”

He shook his head, fending off her comforting tone and words. “ It was. Because I loved him. I did. I probably had for a long time. Shit. He was different from that first moment.” One hand rubbed circles on the other absently. “And I had done this…stupid thing for him. I had broken every rule I had to go there and give him that one dance he wanted. Because it was the only thing he had ever really asked of me. And I wanted to, for once, do something right.” His smile was bittersweet and his eyes finally met Daphne’s. “It was the only time in my whole fucking life I wanted do what was right. And it came out completely wrong. Ironic or what.”

Daphne’s hand came to rest on his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, Brian.” He looked away and she allowed him the retreat. Drugs or no drugs, Brian had shown her more than she knew he’d ever meant to. But this guilt had been eating at him for years. “It was a horrible crime committed against Justin, and to an extent against you.” He huffed out an indignant noise and Daphne almost smiled. “You think I don’t know about the nightmares.”

His head swerved so quickly she heard the snapping of neck muscles. “What?”

She shook her head. “Well then, I guess there’s another thing you didn’t know about Justin. He knew about your nightmares, Brian. He once told me that you would never remember them in the morning. Or you’d pretend they never happened. He said it had helped him to some extent because he’d hold your hand or hug you, he’d calm you down in your sleep, and it allowed him to focus on something other than his own fear for awhile.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Brian shook his head, one side of his mouth twitching up. “That’s so fucked up.”

Daphne giggled, wrapping one arm around her friend, as she leaned against him. “Yep. That was you two…always beautifully, wonderfully, perfectly fucked up.”

Brian sighed. “We were great that night, weren’t we?”

Daphne giggled, head laying comfortably on his shoulder. “You two were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Nothing and no one will ever change that.”

She felt his arm around her own shoulder and smiled when he whispered against her head. “He always makes everything beautiful.”

They let the comfortable silence they always seemed to share fall between them…

 

  
**  
_“Sometimes he’s not going to let you help.”_   
**   


 

“Brian, we really should do this tonight. The work load is too much. We can go over the new presentations. Make sure everything runs smoothly.” Ted pleaded, frantically signaling Cynthia as she passed his side. Putting one hand over the mouthpiece, he whispered harshly, “He’s changing our meeting for the end of the week.”

Cynthia threw her hands in the air, exasperation tinting her every word. “What are we supposed to do with everyone that’s showing up?” They’d planned the surprise dinner for a couple of weeks. “We can’t just cancel right now.” She glanced at Ted. “Can we?”

Ted shrugged, returning his attention to his conversation with Brian. “Are you sure about this, Bri?”

“Yes, Theodore. I am sure I do not want to spend tonight stuck in a meeting room with you.”

“Cynthia will be there, too.”

“Oh well, in that case…”

“Really?!” was Ted’s hopeful response.

“A double fuck no. “

Ted sighed, shaking his head at Cynthia, and she cursed softly, turning on her heels. He knew she’d call everyone. Thankfully it was only family invited to celebrate Brian’s one year cancer-free anniversary. If that was even what you would call it.

He had spent the better part of two hours attempting to convince Brian that they needed to go over business. He had even been tempted to tell him about the dinner, but he knew that would have made Brian run away faster.

At least it was the thought that had counted. He had picked this day because he’d been there with Brian as he’d gone through the treatments. He’d seen how Justin had taken care of Brian. It had somehow cemented their non-relationship more. Ted had witnessed the love no one else ever admitted to seeing and he’d been grateful that the two had each other. It had even made him believe he might find the same thing. His thought drifted briefly to Blake and he smiled. He had.

“Ted?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, Brian. We can reschedule. If that’s what you want.”

Brian sighed. “I know about the dinner, Ted.”

Silence.

“Ted?”

“You know about the dinner? Why we’re doing it?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why, Theodore.”

“How did you find out?”

“Fags are notorious gossip queens. Besides, Emmett owed me one.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t fucking queen out, Ted.”

“Well, if you know…can’t you, you know, show up? It’s not at Debbie’s.”

Brian laughed. “Which is why I know I can cancel. Otherwise I’d have to deal with a pissed off Novotny bearing fucking tuna macaroni and guilt.”

“You’re saying if it was at Deb’s, you’d come?” Ted sounded nonchalant.

“Don’t even think about it, Theodore. I will have you murdered.” Brian voice lowered. “I need to do this on my own, okay?”

Ted sighed. He could and would always respect Brian when it came to dealing with this. “Whatever you need, Bri. Maybe we could have lunch next week. Sort of a private mini-celebration.”

“Next week.” After a pause. “Invite Cynthia. She’ll be less pissed that way.”

Ted chuckled. “You got it. Don’t celebrate too hard.”

“Me? Never. And, by the way…”

“What?” Ted paused, waiting for the insult to come.

“Thank you, Teddy.”

Cynthia found Ted holding the phone, a ghost of a smile on his face and the sound of the dial tone in his ear.

 

  
**  
_“No matter what he says, never give up.”_   
**   


 

“So, what part of ‘I hate celebrations’ did Mother Taylor not understand?” He stepped aside to allow the red-headed energy ball that was Molly Taylor enter the loft. She smiled at him, that wide grin that made his heart ache for sunshine, and dropped bags on the floor.

“The part where you called birthdays bullshit and mentioned never celebrating your own.” She removed her scarf and gloves. It had started to snow and the cold had wiped away the small signs of thawing they had been experiencing. “Shit. It’s cold.” She bent, picking up one of the paper bags and shoving it into Brian’s arms before taking the other one and following him into the kitchen. “It’s March, for Christ’s sake. There should be rain and flowers starting to bloom, not goddamn snow showers and ice. Fucking Pittsburgh.”

Brian stared at her.

Molly stared back. “What?”

“Seriously, is the entire Taylor brood predisposed to swearing like sailors?”

“Shit!” The loft door opened and Jennifer Taylor entered. “It’s fucking freezing.” She paused at the sound of laughter from her daughter and sent Brian a questioning look.

“What?”

Brian shook his head, silently unloading the bag on the counter between mumbles of “Taylors” and “heart attacks” and “goddamn genes”. Molly grinned at the last and wiggled her brows comically at her mother. “I believe Brian was complaining about our tendency to use foul language in the presence of his virgin ears.”

A sponge hit her head a few seconds later and Jennifer stifled a laugh as she glanced at Brian, who continued to concentrate on emptying the contents of the bag. “We learned from the best.”

“Debbie.”

Molly finished her task and, pushing some of the groceries aside, she turned to face Brian’s back. Her own back to the counter, she gripped the marble top and pushed up, jumping slightly and settling on the firm surface. She swung short legs back and forth, smiling at her mother. “I learned from Brian.”

Brian snorted.

Molly grinned once more and nodded towards Brian as she did. “Methinks Brian is not very keen to the idea of us taking over his kitchen and ‘celebrating.’” She emphasized the last word with air quotes and let out a short laugh when another sponge was hurled in her direction.

Jennifer played the peacemaker. “Okay, children. Let’s behave.” She stepped forward, her hand touching Brian’s back, rubbing sweetly before placing a quick kiss on his temple. “Thank you for letting us do this, Brian.”

“Not that he had much choice,” Molly added, as she stuck a grape in her mouth. “We would have had to disown you otherwise.” Her phone rang at that moment, her face falling when she read the Caller ID and taking a deep breath, she answered. “Hi, Dad.”

Brian stiffened and felt Jennifer do the same at his side. They stood in silence, eyes narrowed as they watched another Taylor child have to deal with Craig.

“Dad-- I don’t know -- at Brian’s. Yes. At. Brian’s.” She slid off the counter, one hand rubbing at her forehead. “I will not. Because he’s family.” She glanced up, blue eyes unhappy. “Yes. He is.” Another pause and Brian could see the anger rising in her face. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.” She shrugged in that manner only a fourteen-year-old could. “It’s not my problem how it affects you. He’s family.” Her face twisted into disgust. “Well, as a brother-in-law he kicks ass. Yes. I said ‘ass.’” In her silence, Brian could make out the loud sounds coming from Craig.

Jennifer reached for the phone but Molly moved away, swiping at her mother’s hands. “Wait. Wait. Let me get this straight. You won’t pay for dance school if I don’t what? Call Brian an asshole? Forget he was practically married to my brother?” She spit out the next words with enough venom to kill. “ Oh for fuck’s sake. He is not a child molester.”

Brian lunged forward but Molly moved out his way. “Yeah, well Dad, Justin was seventeen years old. Legal even here in fair Pittsburgh. If he wanted to fuck the entire Ironmen defense lineup, he could have.” She placed one hand on her hip, head tilting. “But he didn’t. He only fucked Brian. The man he almost married. I’m sure the same can’t be said for the first girl you ever screwed.”

Brian turned to look at Jennifer, whose mouth was open, and he could see the pride warring with anger in her eyes over her daughter’s behavior.

Molly’s hand fisted at her side. Her voice grew cold and quiet. “If that’s how you feel, then I can’t change it. Fine. I’ll find some other way. Goodbye, Craig.” Snapping the phone closed, she growled in frustration. “Jesus fucking Christ, he’s an asshole.”

“Molly! That’s enough.”

She turned her head to stare at Jennifer. “Oh come on, Mom. He is. I mean, I appreciate being in the world as I’m sure Brian appreciates Justin being here as well, but crap. I’d almost rather not exist than have that guy’s DNA running through me.”

Brian nodded in agreement, understanding and empathizing. “Fucking A.” He gave Molly a high-five and ignored Jennifer’s deep sigh. He watched her head to the bathroom to clean up, tossing orders at them over her shoulder.

Molly began to wash the vegetables while he looked for the pots and pans that Jennifer had said she needed. He pulled out Justin’s good cookware, setting it up as they worked side by side in silence. After some time, he cleared his throat and offered to pay for whatever dance classes Molly was taking. From the corner of his eye, he could see her pause, thinking.

“I’ll ask Mom.”

“You think she’ll go for it?”

“Considering you’re allowing us to have Justin’s birthday dinner in your house, and seeing as the three of us are grieving his not being with us right now, not to mention that Mom pretty much loves you to death…yeah, I think it’s a safe bet, she’ll be happy you want to help.”

Brian leaned over, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re the coolest kid I know, Molly Taylor.”

“Right back at you.”

 

  
**  
_“He puts on a fucking good show…”_   
**   


 

On the day of the anniversary of Justin’s departure from their lives, Ben and Michael decided that the only method to dealing with Brian was honesty. So, with no preamble and no excuses, they showed up at the loft. They were greeted with barely a glower and smirk. Brian stepped aside, still on the phone, and with no surprise evident allowed them to come in. When he was done, he raised one eyebrow as Ben made his way to the kitchen.

There was still food left over from the previous night’s take out and Michael disposed of it efficiently. He assisted Ben with the set up of the kitchen, chatting animatedly about Hunter, the store, the newest adorable words JR had learned, and the upcoming party for his and Ben’s six year anniversary. Brian sat at the kitchen counter, nodding occasionally at him, his eyes never quite focusing. Michael sighed. He knew this day was never easy. That the more years that passed the harder it was to deal with. It should have been the opposite. It should have gotten better.

Three years now.

And, looking at his best friend in quiet conversation with his husband, Michael wished it could be different. He wished Justin was here. That they would be having dinner together, going for a quick drink at Woody’s, and then heading to Babylon. That for once he could see the peace in Brian’s face he seemed to have whenever the little twink that stole his heart was around.

He almost laughed. If someone had told him, eight years ago when Brian had spotted Justin underneath that streetlamp that he would wish the little fucker would stay forever, he would have punched them.

If he was honest, he would admit how much he missed him, too. Their talks about life and families, their inside jokes about the men they loved, even the silences while they worked on the comic they had created. It wasn’t the same with Joe, his new artist and co-writer. He was a good artist, Justin had recommended him when it had become impossible to keep up with that particular demand, and Michael liked him.

But he wasn’t Justin. He didn’t understand JT or Rage or Zephyr the way Justin had. He hadn’t lived through the bashings and the disappointments and the cancer and the bombings. Which was why Michael had made the decision he had.

“We’re killing off JT.”

Brian paused mid-sentence, his eyes finding Michael’s across the room. He let the hand that had been gesturing at Ben fall on the countertop. “What?”

Brian stared from Michael to Ben’s surprised face. Apparently Michael had kept this particular bit of knowledge to himself. Brian tapped fingers on the marble beneath his hand. “You’re killing JT?”

Michael nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “I thought it was for the best.”

“And why is that?” Brian’s voice sounded coiled, tight.

“Because it’s unfair.” Michael took a deep breath, plunging ahead quickly. “Justin knew the character, Brian. It was him. It was his life. And ever since he…well, it’s been someone else’s life.” He met his best friend’s eyes now. “When we began, what we wanted to tell was the truth. I’ve never been comfortable telling his story without him. And he admitted to me that he felt the same way. So…we made the mutual decision to kill him off.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head, and Michael could see that he was restraining from adding something to the conversation. He knew what it was. Ben still believed in happy endings. He thought that one day…Justin would return. The death of JT was a symbol of finality. Of Michael’s belief that Justin would never come home.

Brian’s quiet voice drifted into his thoughts. “And what about Rage?”

Michael’s sad eyes met the tortured hazel ones across from him. “He’ll do what he always does.” He saw Ben place one hand on Brian’s shoulder and squeeze before walking away. Brian smiled sadly but his gaze remained on Michael.

“And what’s that Mikey?”

Sad half-smile. “He’ll survive.”

The buzzer rang at that moment, announcing Ted and Emmett’s arrival, and Michael made his way to let them in. Brushing past Brian to the door, he distinctly head him mumble quietly.

“Doubt it.”

And, for all that he wanted to, Michael couldn’t disagree.

 

  
**  
_“…but he’s going to need…you all.”_   
**   


 

“Jesus Christ, Debbie!”

“Daddy!”

“Sonnyboy?”

Brian fell back a step, the force of Gus hurling at his body taking him by surprise. He picked up his son, hugging the small frame tightly, as he glared at Debbie’s grinning face.

“Surprised?”

“No shit.” He felt her smack against his butt as she moved past him into the loft.

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

Brian grinned at her retreating back.

Gus pulled back, identical grin on his mouth. “Yeah. Grandma Deb doesn’t like cuss words, Daddy.” His small hands framed Brian’s face, his smile falling as he looked at his father with the kind of probing gaze no six-year old should possess. “You look sad, Daddy. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Brian was stunned. “Of course I am, Sonnyboy. I’m more than happy.” He hugged him again. Turning to Debbie, he placed Gus back on the floor, taking his chubby hand in his own. “But…you weren’t supposed to be here until Friday.” He glanced at the calendar on his desk, wondering if he had managed to lose two days.

“Actually, the girls thought it would be a nice birthday present to send Gus early so you two could spend more time together. They‘re still coming up with JR for your party on Saturday.” She ignored his snort and held out her hands, the pot in her hands giving off the scent of what he was sure was tuna macaroni casserole. He shook his head, smiling softly. “You know I hate that shi- stuff, Deb.”

“You fuc-…you love it. Now shut up and let’s eat.” She glared at him, moving toward the kitchen for god knows what. Brian was sure she was conducting some inventory to make sure he had enough food to keep him alive until Saturday. He shook his head. How the fuck did they talk him into this? Oh right. He’d been high.

Brian bent down, helping Gus out of his jacket and listening attentively as his son rattled on about soccer, his new school, how annoying JR was, and the presents he had brought his Dad.

“Presents? I get more?” He ruffled Gus’ hair, receiving an exasperated look.

“Of course, Daddy. See, Daddy J said that you were a present hog and if we didn’t get you lots and lots of them, you would spend your birthday pouting like a four-year-old.” Gus smiled, then, mistaking Brian’s stony face for anger, he bit his lip. “It was Daddy J said that, not me.”

Brian smiled, kissing his son’s head softly. “Thanks, Gus. I love this present.”

Gus grinned, jumping up and down as he did. Debbie returned with plates and silverware and, addressing him sternly, she told Gus that he needed to wash his hands. Watching as his son disappeared around the corner into the bathroom, Brian turned back to Debbie. “So, it was the lezzies’ idea to do this?”

Debbie shrugged. “Might have had some help.”

“In other words, you and Justin came up with this plan.”

“So? I saw your face the last few dinners where JR had come up to visit Michael and Ben. I knew you missed Gus. I happened to mention it to Sunshine and, well, the rest just happened.”

Brian watched her face flush with color and he bit his lip against a smile. He came up behind her, hugging her closely for a minute before kissing her cheek. Pulling back, he whispered, “Thanks, Ma.”

She patted his chin and smiled at him. “Wasn’t me who managed to convince Mel and Lindsey.”

Gus ran out at that moment, pulling on his father to sit next to him. Brian helped to settle him down and excused himself for a moment, taking his cell phone to the bedroom, ignoring Debbie’s grin.

He hit the speed dial button, his hand playing with the strands of thread on his worn out wife beater. It rang five times before there was a distinctive click and that voice came through clearly. “Hey.”

It shook something loose inside and Brian quickly bottled it up, like he always did. “Hey yourself.”

“So…you get your present yet?” Brian could hear the smile in Justin’s voice.

“I did. Yes. A little big for me, but it’ll do.”

Justin laughed. “How is Gus?”

“What did I just say? He’s getting huge.”

“Time passes by, doesn’t it?”

So much left in that sentence, but Brian knew neither one of them would acknowledge that. They never did. “So, I hear you’re the one to thank for it.”

“Pfft.”

“Justin.”

“What?”

“I - it means -”

“Brian.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re welcome.” There was deep silence, words not spoken, declarations unmade, and then it was gone and all that was left was emptiness. “Well, I should go. You need to spend this time with Gus, anyway. I’m glad you get to see him. And, Brian…happy birthday.”

Brian smiled, ignoring the pang, the screaming in his head to keep that voice talking, the fucking need that ate through him like acid. “Right. Later, Sunshine.”

“Later.”

 

 

He would never discover why it started. And he would never be able to pinpoint exactly when it began. All he would ever know for sure was that somehow and in some way Justin managed to look after him. Even when Brian didn’t want him to. All that was important was that, over time, those that he loved became a part of his life like they hadn’t been before. In their loss, in their grieving they had formed a bond that few things would break. When he was angry or sad or even just happy.

They would appear, by his side, bearing shards of color in the absence of sunlight.


End file.
